Kurama's choice
by Hikari loves Kurama
Summary: [Finished!]When Hiei brings up the fact that Kurama secretly wants to rebel against Koenma and become a bandit again, Hiei asks if Kurama would actualy do it. It goes against all he's learned, but being bad sounds so good...


Kurama's eyes darted to the side and narrowed. A cocky grin spread across his face, giving him an expression not unlike Yuskue's can be at times. Beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his handsome face and on his forehead. His breathing was deep and controlled, in order to not cause his opponent to hear the sound. He pulled the whip up to his visage to inspect it, finding one thorn to have broken off. Its base remained, a dull lump compared to the sharper-than-glass thorns. His shoulders sagged the slightest bit, fatigue getting its hold on him. His lips parted, as though he may speak, yet he remained silent.  
  
  
  
The forest around him looked much like those in Nigenkai. It wasn't, of course. The very feel of it made you know you were certainly not at home; this was a place only demons came, no human was fool enough to enter it's darkened tree line. Not a one lived to tell of its inhabitants, I ought to say. It was a place of unspeakable horror, of nightmares no mere mortal can withstand. Few demons came at all, let alone left with their sanity. It was, however, the perfect place for a select few to train. To withstand its intimidating aura enough to stand erect within the forest was a feat very few could accomplish. To spar within its darkened hold was that of legend, none had managed to do so in 800 years. But on this very day, two dignifiedly silent figures appeared at its border, and dared to stride in, risking both their minds, and their very souls. They remained in this forest of terror, apparently unaffected by its powers. With confidence, they set to their task. One not unlike your own, perhaps. They sought to improve themselves, both in mind and body.  
  
  
  
The inability to properly concentrate, by fault of his weakened condition and his exhaustion, strained Kurama into pausing to lean his slim shoulder on an ancient tree, and to close his eyes to the darkness around him. The sweet comfort of cutting himself from reality caused a smile to grace his lips.  
  
  
  
His sparring partner did not take Kurama's sudden rest lightly. Hiei's position was just above the momentarily vulnerable Kurama, up among the branches. His face tightened into his usual scowl, and his grip did likewise on his sword. He had sensed Kurama's growing exhaustion, and had chose to ignore it. For he found it deeply insulting, as if Kurama was turning his back on him. Perhaps it was the forest's power that caused him to reason in this irrational fashion, or maybe it was Hiei's own fatigue. He, of course, did not acknowledge this. He chose to consider himself above pain, emotion, and the need for sleep. His own pride diluted his thought process, making him arrogant and dauntless. This forest had no mercy for the weak, and neither did Hiei.   
  
  
  
Kurama's eyes opened in hesitation, he was not yet willing to resume his training with the relentlessly forceful, anger-driven, power-hungry Hiei. At the same time, he was as eager to become stronger as Hiei was. His performance at the Dark Tournament was on the verge of being pathetic. He had assumed he was farther along in his pursuit of excellence. Much to his annoyance and to his great cost, he was wrong. Hiei had found himself in the same circumstance.  
  
  
  
"Sorry to keep you waiting." Kurama's voice was hoarse with fatigue. He sounded halfway apologetic, but Hiei easily sensed Kurama did not feel remorse for showing weakness.   
  
  
  
"I do not mind, Kitsune, my friend. I grow impatient, yes, but what swordsman would dare haste into a battle with one of your skill?"   
  
  
  
Kurama smiled, his eyes lighting up, his fatigue had not dampened the fun from this practice spar. "That's an awfully fancy way of saying you're scared, Hiei." He gingerly brought a hand to his neck, and massaged the knot that had come to ail him. He winced, not a good expression on his tender face, only a smile did his gorgeous eyes justice. He tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, letting his hand fall away. His eyes were only half-open, and he feared if he closed them, he'd fall into the deepest kind of sleep, the kind that most don't wake up from. A solitary bead of sweat made its way down his left cheek, and he lifted his hand again to wipe it away.  
  
  
  
Kurama's mind was wandering in the deepest depths of his conscious. Now was one of those times where Hiei couldn't possibly guess what he was thinking. He was far more intelligent than he looked; and he looked ingenious to begin with. His age was a mystery, even to Hiei. He had to be older than 500, and so his way of thinking was by far different than Hiei's. There were no self-empowerment ideals, no judgmental standards, and no quick hatred towards those less intelligent or strong. Only pure ideas, such as those of peaceful spirits, and a wise outlook upon that which was around him.   
  
  
  
He vaguely wondered why Hiei didn't attack, and force Kurama to continue to spar. That was Hiei's usual style: do it by force. But Hiei was subdued at the moment, his own mind working furiously, contemplating his own shady scheme. He considered peeking in on Kurama's own reflections. But, he mused, Kurama's mind was not as single layered as most mortals'. It would be a waste of duration, by the time he made sense of it, Kurama would catch on and shut off his connection. Hiei felt a very miniscule, dull stab of envy. Kurama certainly wasn't one that was easily tampered with. He never fell for any sort of trick, and was slow to trust. And so innocent! While Hiei had always done wrong for his own gain, whether for power or for a cheap thrill, Kurama had, after all, stolen the forlorn hope in hopes of saving that human woman that was now Kurama's mother. Kurama could get away with almost anything, who'd suspect the thief-Yuko-turned-peacemaker-nigen of any crime? He had more than once proved his allegiance to Koenma, and was favored by Yuskue Urameshi.  
  
  
  
Hiei's face cracked into that evil grin he gets when he's about to kill, or do something Koenma wouldn't be pleased with. His eyes came to rest on Kurama's back. At the sight of the hansom redhead, Hiei's grin faded back to a frown. Kurama would never agree to tarnish his now-spotless record. Hiei could imagine his disapproving eyes, how crestfallen he'd be to find Hiei wanting to return to his old ways. Hiei snorted. He was never one to stick with something for very long, and maybe it was time for this lone wolf to leave the pack. Perhaps, in order to look out for his dear friend, Kurama would tag along. Hiei knew he wouldn't dare consider informing Koenma, it wasn't that Kurama was frightened by Hiei, quite the opposite, he just wasn't the type to snitch.   
  
  
  
Kurama let out a gentle sigh, a contented smile resting on his face. He wasn't unaware of Hiei's dubious notion, he simply was having the same thought himself. He had also grown bored with his current position. He adored his mother, and never intended to hurt her, and held Yuskue in the deepest respects, and Koenma- well, nobody liked or respected THAT sassy brat, but one does long for what one does not have. He knew Hiei would agree to become a corrupt thief once more, in a heartbeat, but the injustice of doing that, of giving up on what is right to do what is wrong? For what; some cheap thrills? The thought of doing such a thing caused his stomach to turn. He put a trembling hand to his brow, confusion written in his eyes. How had his mood changed so quickly?  
  
  
  
The corners of Hiei's mouth twitched in impatience. He had not yet broken a sweat, and was eager to do so. If you broke a sweat, that was a sign that your strenuous training had begun to take effect on your muscles. Hiei could not withstand being idle a moment longer. With gracefulness no gymnast could accomplish, Hiei leapt off his branch, his feet landing with a soft "TAK" beside Kurama.  
  
  
  
Kurama, taking the unspoken prompting, turned his face to Hiei, his mood changing rapidly once more. The whip was in the air in a flash; Kurama hardly seemed to have moved. It gave off a threatening crack, but remained at a safe distance from Hiei.  
  
  
  
Hiei wielded his sword like a samurai, with deadly precision and enthusiasm. His breath was shallow, quick and unsteady. His eyes harbored the spirit of many a fighter before him, the thrill of a battle with a worthy adversary caused adrenaline to flood his system. His pulse quickened, and sweat began to fall. Kurama played the defensive, dodging Hiei's fatal thrusts. He felt the vacuum of air every time Hiei's sword passed close to his body. His cocky grin returned. All the puzzles that had brought him agitation moments before evaporated, he too had the spark of a fighter. Who was more thrilled at this battle was anyone's guess.  
  
  
  
Kurama's whip nicked Hiei's arm and a stream of blood began to flow. He ignored it, it wasn't bad. Kurama lashed again, but Hiei's swift movement evaded it. Hiei returned the blows, still unable to catch him. Kurama was untouchable, immune to Hiei's sword. Hiei might as well have been a drunkard, swinging sluggish, alcohol-induced punches. Kurama's speed was omnipotent! Hiei could try to match that speed, or become much faster, but it would take his full concentration, and he wouldn't be able to accurately attack. Kurama had him cold.  
  
  
  
Hiei took a chance, darting under the whip, allowing it to brush up against his shoulders, then knocking it aside with his blade. Then he swung it to the left, directly at Kurama's side. Kurama jerked his body to the away, his eyes narrowed into little more than pain-filled slits. The blood ran down his leg, making a small, deep-red puddle by his foot. He paused, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell, the cocky grin left his gorgeous face, replaced by a grimace.  
  
  
  
Hiei's smile was vicious. His eyes filled with a swirling cloud of sick enjoyment. Then, Kurama's figure vaporized from before Hiei's eyes. With speed like the gods, Kurama made his next assault. He was behind Hiei before he could react.   
  
  
  
Kurama's whip slashed through the air, far faster than light. Hiei's eyes darted to the side, he could see Kurama in of the corner of his vision range, his eyes widened in astonishment. His mouth opened in awe at Kurama's speed, when had he become faster than Hiei?! The whip struck Hiei's back, ripping the cloth of his shirt to tatters. Hiei fell forward onto his knees, his hands splayed on the dead grass. Pain etched itself on his face, his eyes closed.  
  
  
  
"You've improved, Kitsune." He gasped. "How did you get so fast?"   
  
  
  
Kurama said nothing. He did not acknowledge that he won, though, without a doubt, he did. He put his hands behind his back, straightening himself. His smile was friendly, his eyes cold. This simple gesture -the hands going behind his back-was merely to show he felt it best to discontinue, 'it's time to take a breather', to put it simply. Hiei didn't acknowledge nor decline this offer.   
  
* * *   
  
  
  
The only light in the forest came from a small fire. It's light seemed to mock the forest's evil disposition. As if it were challenging the forest to try to make it hush it's light. The forest could almost be heard grumbling to itself in hostility.   
  
  
  
Kurama gratefully inhaled the scent of roasting coffee, and his taste buds watered at the thought of drinking the piping hot, caffeine enriched, black coffee. He put a hand to his lips, certain he may be drooling. He wasn't, of course. He glanced at Hiei, who repositioned the pot on the flames. Hiei looked up, and came close to smiling. Kurama leaned back against a tree, and continued to gaze at his companion.   
  
Hiei's eyes closed in ecstasy as the aroma of the coffee grew stronger, and he put his hand close to the flames, as if to snatch the pot. He felt Kurama's eyes upon him, but it did not disturb him in the least. Crickets, which seemed to be the only other living thing in this accursed forest, chirped and sang, their sound eerie to Hiei's ears. Night in this place, this Hades, this agonizingly still and heavy woodland was by far the most enduring trial he had to accomplish. It's silence, with the exception of Kurama and his own breathing, and the crackling of the fire, caused his mind to reel. He could not focus his mind on one specific idea. This caused him great confusion and strife. The fact that Kurama could endure this plague, with a smile on his face, no less, infuriated him further. During the day, where the heavy air, and unknown spiritual chemicals had induced exhaustion, Hiei had been the one most heartily fairing. But now, in this time in which Hiei was forced to remain awake, in the confines of his own mind, Kurama was achieving the ultimate calm. Hiei cursed himself for such weakness. His own mind, and the forest was using it to torture him! How absurd, and yet, it made sense. He had never much enjoyed self-reflection, and now he had no other choice but to ponder his own faults and personality issues. To his eternal embarrassment, there was plenty to review.   
  
  
  
Kurama could easily accept his being not perfect, unlike Hiei. He remained almost completely unaffected by the forest's nasty little plot. Kurama looked with pity as Hiei tormented over his own imperfections. But he could do nothing to ease this, even if Hiei weren't so blasted independent. He was forced to watch the outward signs of the war that was going on within. Hiei's face twisted into a grimace, his eyes were downcast.  
  
  
  
Kurama longed to see the light of day, the first rays of the sun's blessed warmth shining over the tops of the age-old trees. Then, and only then, would relief come to Hiei. But they had an excruciatingly long time before dawn. The coffee would help, its caffeine would be greatly esteemed, but caffeine only did so much. Kurama almost regretted suggesting that keeping awake in this misery, well, misery for Hiei, would be good, strenuous training for the mind.   
  
  
  
Hiei soon forgot to hold himself up erect and with pride. His shoulders were allowed to sink down, his back relaxed into a far more comfortable position. His face was still in a grimace, his eyes dark and forbidding. No one would ever break the hard surface of his demeanor. His aura was just as intimidating as that of the forest. Even Kurama backed off when Hiei became angry. Well, usually. But now, he wasn't any more intimidating than Kurama. His short frame leaned against a tree's trunk. He thrust a branch in the fire restlessly, trying to coax the flames higher, in order to heat the coffee quicker. He was sick of waiting, and wanted the caffeine NOW.   
  
  
  
"I think it may be done." Kurama said huskily, peering at the bubbling liquid. Hiei groped for the pot, and when he had grasped the handle, he gingerly lifted it from the fire. He brought it to his lips, and drank deeply. The smoke billowed from it around his face, but he didn't seem bothered by the heat. He was, as you know, a fire demon. But when it came time for Kurama to take a sip, he forced a smile. "It may be too hot. I'll just pass for now."  
  
  
  
Hiei lifted his face, scrutinizing Kurama closely. Kurama tilted his head to the side, his long red hair falling onto his shoulder. His liquid-green eyes reflected the fire, an intense, burning inferno. For a moment, Hiei sensed that Kurama's spirit was not all that different than his own. Kurama blinked, cutting off the connection between their two spirits. The corners of Hiei's mouth twitched, he wasn't sure if he ought to smile or not. So, Kurama also longed for a change of scene. Well then, we ought to get busy, my friend, its time for a shift in the way we do things.  
  
  
  
He put the pot to his mouth, drinking deeply once more, inclining his head backward. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, closing his eyes and coming quite close to smiling again. But still, his nasty attitude kept him from doing so.  
  
  
  
"Is it true," Kurama murmured, longing for a conversation, "That no demon as sparred in theses woods, as we have, in 500 years?"  
  
  
  
"No. Eight-hundred." Hiei grunted, his focus still on the coffee. Ah ,the blessed haven of caffeine!   
  
  
  
"Why?" Kurama persisted, much to Hiei's annoyance.   
  
  
  
Hiei shook his head in disgust, "Because," He said, his tone stiff with displeasure,   
  
"No one has been able to withstand the forest's power, or its mind games. Most die during the day from falling asleep, the air is so thick, and they suffocate. And no one wants to spend a night considering that they aren't perfect." His face cracked into a sinister grin, "We ought to invite Urameshi."  
  
"I bet he'd say the same about you." Kurama smirked, his eyes danced with amusement.  
  
  
  
Hiei snorted. "Funny. Very funny, foxboy."   
  
  
  
"I thought so." Kurama's smile evaporated. "How long are we going to stay here?"  
  
  
  
"A month?" Hiei suggested, chuckling at the horror on Kurama's face, "Come on, it isn't that bad. The forest isn't going to kill you, you're an animal spirit. You've made friends with it by withstanding its test. Now you may reap the rewards."   
  
  
  
"But, a month? Yuskue could need our help . . . . ."  
  
  
  
"Pah. That kid doesn't WANT our help. Besides, you didn't mind the thought of abandoning him a little while ago."  
  
  
  
"How-?" Kurama's face darkened, his eyes half closed, his mouth descending in a frown, "Oh, of course, reading my thoughts again, eh?"  
  
  
  
"No. I've told you, they're to complicated. I read your inner emotions, they're easier."  
  
  
  
"Are you saying-"  
  
  
  
"No. I'm suggesting. Only suggesting." Hiei shrugged, his eyes starring at the fire purposely. "If you wanted to."  
  
  
  
"Well, I don't." Kurama spoke firmly, "I only felt that way for a fleeting moment."  
  
  
  
"Liar." Hiei said softly, his tone not accusing. He looked up, his eyes boring into Kurama's. "You want to rebel, Kitsune, to branch away from this goodie-two-shoes trash. I know it. I feel it too."  
  
  
  
Kurama shook his head, not in disagreement, but in confusion. He closed his eyes, contemplating his own desires. "Hm."  
  
  
  
The fire burned low, it's last few flames licking the cold night air. The embers glowed, the last light left, with the exception of Kurama's cat-like eyes. The cricket's chirping had stopped, for dawn was near. Neither demon spoke, in fear that they'd break the other's concentration. The sun's rays gradually lit the sky, warming the treetops, singing the day's praises. Hiei set the now empty pot on the embers, his eyes beholding the glory of day with cold acknowledgement.  
  
  
  
"It's time to move on." Hiei observed.  
  
  
  
"Yes, I agree." Kurama answered, to more than one question.  
  
  
  
Hiei put a hand to the tree trunk to keep his balance. He tediously stood, flexing the muscles in his legs. He stretched his arms, his cautious manner striking Kurama that he may be in pain. But Hiei was above pain, and ignored the throbbing. He bent over, his hands massaging his calves. He straightened, lifting his arms up again, yawning. He watched as Kurama struggled to stand, not offering to help. Kurama's hands went to his eyes, rubbing the sleep from his tired optics. He stifled a yawn, and beamed a Hiei. "Shall we?" He gestured to the open forest. His eyes looked heavenward, scanning the skies.   
  
  
  
Hiei's eyes followed his to the tops of the trees. Hundreds of feet up, the tips of the great trees touched the sky. Hiei winced, his face reflecting his inward meditations. "Fine," He said gruffly, not one to back down from a challenge, "To the top, then?"  
  
  
  
Kurama, still facing the heavens, muttered, "Long way up." He put a hand up to shield his eyes, "Meet you at the top, if you don't fall!"   
  
  
  
Hiei gapped at him, unable to comprehend this being a joke. It was a long way up, yes, but the only way Hiei wouldn't make it to the top was if he fell. Stubborn as he was, he wasn't stupid, he'd stop if he fell from high up. "You say that, but do you believe you have a chance of beating me up there?"  
  
  
  
"I never said that. But, you want to race, fine with me."  
  
Hiei cursed himself. Stupid! Stupid! STUPID! "You got a death wish, Kitsune?" He managed to spit out, slightly less vicious than usual.   
  
  
  
"No, do you want to borrow one?" Kurama countered.   
  
  
  
Hiei had to smile at that. "Some one call a psychologist, Kitsune acquired himself a sense of humor."  
  
  
  
Kurama turned to face Hiei, his eyes held a glint of amusement. He sauntered to the remains of their fire, and studied the embers. Their glow was feeble, in their last attempt to survive they smoldered, their smoke, fringed with sparks, attempted to alight a twig a few feet away. Kurama put a foot on the limb in a sort of spiteful way, a vacant glaze came to his strikingly-green eyes. He fell to one knee, in a swift movement. He inspected a small heap of sticks and logs. His fingers came to rest on a thick tree limb, about a foot or so in length. He peeled the bark away with a sharp stone, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. Hiei folded his arms, the expression on his face unreadable. Kurama made two spears the same way, sharpening the ends. He thrust one into Hiei's hand, and without a word, he selected a tree and began to climb. Hiei stood, puzzling for several more seconds, then turned to a tree. He looked dumbly at the stick, muttering to himself. "If I fall, Kitsune is going to taste steel." He fingered his sword's hilt fondly, then inhaled deeply, he held the air deep within his chest for several seconds, and then he exhaled, closing his eyes. He plunged the lance-like stick into the hard flesh of the tree, high above his head. He pulled himself up, cursing to the whole time. He made his way up the tree, in this slow, painstaking slow, method.  
  
* * *   
  
  
  
The sun set on yet another day of training, leaving a swirling cloud of pink, orange and red. Vague remnants of the sun's rays still descended on the forest, giving it an eerie feel, as if you were grasping the last rays of light in your palm, trying to fend off a formidable, ghastly beast that is the night, knowing you cannot possibly hold on much longer. It gave off an apprehensive feeling, a feeling of dread. Night, and its cascading darkness, would come weather you liked it or not. The tops of the trees witnessed the fall of the sun, and the rise of the moon, and the billions of stars that are residents of this expanse of space. The stars, despite their miniscule appearance, made you feel small, like you're only one tiny part of the 'big picture'. Even as Hiei gazed at them, he felt the weight of a wave of insignificance wash over his mind. For a moment, the thought of an immense galaxy, and the fact he was a small being, on a small planet, struck him as amazing. He was a spec that was even lesser than those stars. He remained in awe of them, and himself, for some time. The day's training was over, he had reached the top of his tree. Some how that feat seemed unimportant now, unfitting to his current contemplation. He stood atop the highest branch, with the air of one who is beyond just tired, yet he remained standing erect, his back straight, his shoulders square. His jaw was set, his eyes, a liquid amber in coloration, glossed over in thought. His eyes followed a shooting star, beholding it's slow decent to earth. His breath was taken away as the sky erupted in thousands of stars, making their way to the ground, all over the Makai world. Their tails streamed behind them, long ribbons of flame, sparking something deep within Hiei's heart. He soared with them, in spirit.   
  
* * *   
  
  
  
Not far away, Kurama sat on the highest limb up another tree. He leaned his wary shoulder on the tree trunk. His eyes took in the beauty of the sky, the falling star, and their gorgeous tails. But he was to drained to fully comprehend their meaning, or their importance. His lids closed over his the goldened-green eyes, purchasing his ticket to dreamland. His body tilted forward, but since he was so heavily in slumber, he didn't sense he was falling.   
  
* * *  
  
Hiei jerked head towards Kurama's tree, fear detonating within him. His eyes fearfully scanned the branches, squinting through the dark. His hand came up to his mouth, and he touched his bottom lip, his eyes clouding over. They narrowed, and he fought every force within himself in effort to see. "KITSUNE!" Without hesitation, he dove from his safe position out into the night, his destination only known to him. He put out a hand, his fingers scraped at the tree bark of another tree as he began to fall, until . . . . AHA! They closed over a branch, and his other arm swiftly came up to help pull himself up. His face inclined upward, his mouth opened. He pushed his feet against the tree, propelling him outward, and he threw out his arm. It hung there, in midair, with no visible purpose. Then, within seconds, his hand closed over another hand. Hiei strained, his body being pulled downward. His feet began to slip, bark being stripped off as fought to keep his foothold. His arm muscles were being put to the test, veins beginning to become pronounced through the skin. Hiei dared look down, into the ashen face of the one he saved. Kurama clutched Hiei's hand, his eyes terrified saucers. Hiei breathed an inward sigh of relief. "You idiot."   
  
* * *  
  
The days began to take their toll on Kurama's sanity. The continuous stress on his muscles, and the sleep-depravation caused his mind to reel, much like Hiei's during the night. He became a victim of hallucinations, and suffered from a nasty cough. Hiei became concerned, his eyes shadowed over every time Kurama looked at him. But he had said 30 days, and they were going to stay there 30 days. Kurama never once asked to go home, nor hinted of it. But he averted his eyes from Hiei's, lest Hiei sense his greatest desire was to leave. Both were too stubborn, and were slowly killing each other.   
  
  
  
The moon, in its great round fullness, dawned on the night, its pale white light descending on two sleeping figures. Their fire burned low, its flames wearing down to little more than sparks. Hiei slept upright, his back resting on a tree. Kurama lay beside him, his cheek resting on his arm. His eyes were open, and as he watched Hiei as he slept a sudden, strong feeling of friendship arose in his chest. Hiei had more than once showed Kurama he cared, in small ways, such as a grudging smile or a casual glance. Who could not befriend Kurama, whose smile and heartfelt comments were pure? Although Kurama wasn't entirely vocal about his feelings either, he wasn't quite so stony. Hiei would die defending Kurama, his only friend. He could be a jerk a lot, it was in his nature, and though his mocking and ridiculing personality was not desired in a friend, Kurama would do anything for Hiei, including becoming a bandit. Perhaps our Yuko-in-disguise ought to choose his friends more wisely.   
  
  
  
Kurama was hit by an intense longing to be Yuko again, it was so sharp it brought tears to his eyes. Images of his past swirled in his mind, ones of Kuronue, and of the others in Kurama's band of thieves. The look in their eyes, the awe of his skill, the respect of his power and authority. The memory of Kuronue's death was painful in his mind, like a thorn cutting into his flesh. If he were still alive, Kurama would have no hesitation in becoming an outlaw again. It would be amusing to see Hiei meet him. They'd love each other, for goodness sakes! Both so ruthless and mean, they'd become the best of friends, then kill each other over some fool argument. Kurama smiled, years of sadness coming to his eyes.   
  
  
  
He could not shake the image from his mind. Kuronue was handsome as far as Yukos went, he had long jet-black hair, and vast wings. Where ever he went, girls fell for him, despite his reputation. They did for Kurama, too, but he was second to Kuronue. Hiei would do his usual rude bit, the Kuronue would challenge him to a spar, and the two would have the fight of their lives. Kurama would watch, helpless to stop the stubborn fools. But who would win? That was a tough question, impossible to answer it for sure. They'd most likely end up in a tie, and seek revenge on each other to settle it. Headstrong, the both of them! And yet, so am I, Kurama thought with a smile.  
  
  
  
Hiei began to mumble in his sleep. Kurama flipped onto his back, his head resting on his arms. The moon reflected itself in his eyes, an immense, pale orb. Kurama's inward contemplations seemed to be just like that orb. For a long time, he stared at the moon, his manner that of a hopeless dreamer. Could he truly leave the spirit detective agency, turn his back on Yuskue? On Koenma? If he were caught . . . . .   
  
  
  
Kurama's back went rigid, he sat bolt upright. If they were caught, they would be executed. The dangers of being a bandit suddenly surged into his conscious like flood waters. Kurama shuddered at his manner of thinking lately. How could he have considered becoming a bandit once more? Kuronue had died. He had DIED as a bandit. "I've been so baka." He told Hiei's sleeping form. "How could I have just overlooked the dangers?" He turned his head back to the moon, his long red hair cascading down his front. Tears welled up in his green eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks. "I-I can't do it, Hiei. I cannot risk your life, nor can I allow you to risk it yourself. I already lost one friend to my past, I don't want to lose another.. We can dream, my tomodatchi, we can dream."  
  
  
  
"Mgkog." Hiei growled groggily, foamy spittle at the corners of his lips, "Shuto rup, kitersune."  
  
  
  
"We can dream." Kurama repeated, his voice oddly serene yet husky. "You are my beloved friend, Hiei, I love you to much as a friend to let you die."  
  
  
  
"Lik five saint, shrut nup!" Hiei's eyes slowly opened, Kurama's slim frame in his optics, "W'samtatter?"  
  
  
  
Kurama blinked, a grin sluggishly replacing his tears, "Nothing, Hiei. I just . . . had a dream. A bad one, at that. But its over now, gone from my mind."  
  
  
  
"Hn. We can dream." Hiei nodded juttingly, his chin coming top rest on his chest as his breathing became that of a sleeper, "W-we can dream . . . . ."  
  
  
  
"We can also forget."  
  
  
  
The End.  
  
  
  
Or is it? Can we be sure that Kurama will never have another rebellious thought? I think not.... Frufrufrufru. 


End file.
